I'll Be
by MadisonL
Summary: PostS2 finale what I hope happened after the screen faded to black, with the perspective of Alex and Izzie rebuilding their friendshiprelationship.


Breathing was highly overrated.

Izzie slowly came to the realization that Meredith was tugging her hand, as if she was a little girl who could not yet be trusted to wander out alone. Izzie swallowed a bitter laugh; alone, always alone. She had struggled to find her own way, pave her own path, for as long as she could remember and – and –

Obviously, it hadn't done her much.

Meredith opened the passenger side door for Izzie and paused, as if coaxing the pale and sorrow-ridden ex-intern surgeon inside the car. Izzie blinked, her eyes focusing again; her head was pounding and she felt disoriented.

She suddenly became aware of the troop of people that was following them. George and Callie, Derek and Addison, Finn, Cristina, Alex…

Alex.

Izzie found his eyes in the crowd and found sympathy there. She knew he had been upset over her relationship with Denny, but now there was no sign of jealousy or malice. Only sadness and regret, just like when she caught him and Olivia together. Funny how that seemed like an eternity ago; funny how angry and pained she had been, compared to how numb she felt now.

After that incident, Izzie had sworn to herself that she would never let Alex hurt her again, that she would never allow him to come close enough to touch her.

And then she had sobbed in his arms.

Meredith noticed the exchange and cleared her throat; she closed the door slightly. "Alex, did you want to come over?" She asked deliberately.

Six pairs of curious eyes swung from Izzie to Alex, who blanched. He began backing away, hands stuffed in his pockets. "No, that's okay. I should get back to my apartment."

Izzie knew very well that Meredith was using her as an excuse to extract herself from both Derek and Finn. She guessed that something had happened during the prom, and she would probably tease Meredith endlessly about it later, but now…now she simply did not have the energy.

She offered Alex a tremulous smile. "You wouldn't be intruding," Izzie said softly, touching on his unspoken fear. "I don't think of any us should be alone right now."

Alone. There was that word again.

He met her gaze and matched her blink for blink. "Okay. I'll follow you in my car."

Meredith helped Izzie bundle the skirt of her gown so that it fit into the car, before rounding to the driver's seat. Cristina, George, and Callie piled into the back row, jostling for elbow room and battling each other for the correct seat belts and their corresponding buckles.

Alex was already waiting by the time Meredith pulled out of the parking space, and he trailed behind her closely as Meredith made the drive from Seattle Grace to her home. By then, the streets were virtually empty and the interior of the car echoed the tranquility of the surroundings. From her glances into the rearview mirror, Meredith could see Cristina staring out her window, sighing every few seconds and looking perplexed. George and Callie both looked straight ahead, though their hands were wrapped tightly in the tiny space between them.

Despite the circumstances of the evening, Meredith could not help but smile. It seemed that at least one of the five interns had found some joy.

Meredith took a peek to her right, dreading the possibility that Izzie was going to be in silent tears. She saw that Izzie had curled up into a fetal position, knees drawn to her chin so that the folds and layers of silk and chiffon were splayed across the seat in a fanfare of pink. To her surprise, Meredith realized that Izzie had dozed off, her head resting against the cool window pane; the moonlight reflected off her tear-streaked cheeks.

Meredith sighed inwardly, unsure of how the night – much less the rest of the week, month, or year – would turn out. Her heart went out to Izzie and she felt the cold pain of regret that came with realizing emotions and sentiments when they were too late. Meredith guessed that it would be quiet when they returned to the house, for which she was unbelievably grateful. Nagging in her thoughts, behind the consequences of Izzie's resignation from the intern program, was what was going to happen between her and Finn, her and Derek, her and Addison.

With an inward groan, she pulled into the driveway as Alex parked his car by the curb in front of the house, behind Callie's. Cristina clambered out of the car, while Callie and George filed out on the other side. They regrouped by the passenger side door, all five of them staring at Izzie's sleeping figure.

"Should we wake her up?" George asked timidly.

Cristina rolled her eyes. "No, we should just let her stay outside, alone, unconscious in the car. Because that's the best way to get over your boyfriend's death."

George straightened, causing Callie to grip his upper arm in warning. "Look, just because –"

Before anyone could say more, Alex had stepped forward to very carefully pry open the passenger door. He stooped low to allow Izzie to slide into his arms as the tension in her body gave away. Meredith scrambled to the other side of the car to unbuckle the seatbelt, allowing Alex to lift Izzie out of her seat.

Izzie flickered to consciousness at the movement, but her eyes did not open as she wrapped her arms around Alex's neck. "Cold," she murmured into his shoulder.

Longing and helplessness seared through his body as Alex pulled her closer to him; he could feel the goosebumps that ran along her arms and the nape of her bare neck. "I know, I'm sorry," he breathed into her hair.

They walked as a solemn procession into the house; Meredith entered first, turning on all the lights, as if that would elevate the atmosphere in any way. George and Callie sat awkwardly on the sofa, unsure of how to help; Cristina simply flopped onto the armchair, arm flung over her closed eyes.

Alex followed Meredith up the stairs to Izzie's bedroom, which was still a mess from the evening's intended festivities. Dresses were strewn across the bed, including one that was a glittery red and another that wavered between sea green and aquamarine blue in the lamplight. Meredith carefully hung the wayward gowns over the back of Izzie's chair and cleared the rest of the jewelry and makeup off the bed.

By then, Izzie's breathing had become slow and steady. Alex was not surprised; considering how hard she had cried earlier at the hospital, it was no wonder that she was completely exhausted.

As Meredith peeled away the covers, Alex laid Izzie gently onto the bed. In his heart, however, he was sorry to have to let her go; she felt, as always, so right in his arms. But he pressed down the desire, knowing this was not the proper time for such feelings.

"You're going to have to help me undress her," Meredith whispered, pulling off Izzie's heels and laying them on the floor.

Alex stared at her in alarm. "You're not serious."

"I know you've seen Izzie naked," Meredith retorted evenly. "This can't be that shocking."

Alex held up his hands, palms facing outward. "No, I shouldn't. Can't you get Cristina to do this?"

Meredith seized Alex's arm and pulled him so close to the edge of the bed that he nearly fell over, on top of Izzie. "Look, I appreciate your noble intentions," she said urgently, "but you helping me would make things a lot easier."

Still uncomfortable with his duties, Alex shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and laid it at the foot of the bed. He tried, to the best of his ability, to avert his eyes as Meredith unzipped the back of Izzie's dress, revealing the flawless beauty of her back. Together, the two of them pulled off Izzie's gown, inch by inch, until it lay in a crumpled heap on the floor.

"We're not going to change her, are we?" Alex asked, wary of what the answer might be.

Meredith shook her head as she draped the covers over Izzie's shivering body. "No, I'll get her pajamas so she can change if she wakes up."

She walked to the bureau and extracted an oversized t-shirt and placed them on the pillow next to Izzie's head. Meredith then looked up at Alex with a raised eyebrow; he took the hint and gave a quick nod. They tip-toed out of the bedroom; Meredith clicked off the light right before she shut the door behind them.

They walked silently down the stairs and joined the other three in the living room. Meredith sat down gingerly next to Callie, and though there was still a seat for Alex, he chose to remain standing.

"How is Izzie doing?" George asked in concern. His hand continued to grip Callie's tightly, though their entwined fingers now rested on her knees.

"Sleeping," Meredith muttered, slumping low and propping her feet on the coffee table. "I can't imagine what's she's going to be like in the morning."

They all nodded in agreement.

Cristina groaned. "My car is still at the hospital. I can't get back."

"I can take you," Callie offered. "When I head back to my place."

Meredith glared. "Alex, stop pacing. You're driving me crazy."

Apparently he was driving himself crazy, because he looked at if he was ready to pull out his hair. "Sorry."

"What's eating you?" George asked Meredith.

"Nothing."

George's eyes widened. "You slept with the vet!"

Meredith sat straight up. "I did not!" She exclaimed hotly.

Cristina unshielded her eyes. "You slept with McDreamy."

"I did not!" Meredith repeated, though this time her protest was less emphatic.

Now Callie's eyes widened. "You had sex with Dr. Shepherd? Addison's husband?"

Meredith shot to her feet and also began pacing the room. "I don't want to talk about this right now."

"You had sex with Shepherd during the prom?" George asked incredulously. "While both the vet and Addison were right there?"

"I think I'm going to leave," Alex said abruptly.

The chatter halted and they all looked at him.

"Already?" George gasped, almost accusingly. Alex nodded. "Why? What's so important that you have to be there right now?'"

Alex shook his head, wondering if he was going to be able to make them understand. "Look, I don't belong here." He gestured around him. "In this house, with you, out of scrubs. I complicate things for everyone, and with Izzie like this, I think it would be better for everyone if I was gone when she woke up."

"What if she has another meltdown?" Meredith asked.

"You're her girlfriends, her housemates," Alex shot back. "I'm just a guy she laid a few times and then who cheated on her. I've already overstepped by boundaries."

"Alex, shut up," Cristina commanded. "This is not your pity-party. If you want to be here, stay here; Izzie is going to need all the comfort she can get when and if she's ready to talk. And –" She held up a hand before Alex could protest. "For the record, you did a decent job tonight. You lost your regular ass-muncher attitude and pulled through, for her. So don't ruin it."

He stared at her, bewildered that Cristina – Cristina of all people – had put in a good word for him. Granted, Alex now felt more uncomfortable than ever and wondered what he was going to do for the rest of the night.

"I left my jacket upstairs," he mumbled feebly. "I'm going to get it."

With that, Alex whirled around and sprinted up the stairs three at a time, in order to escape from the inquisitive eyes down below.

- - -

Izzie woke up sometime later, confused and scared at her unknown location. She looked around wildly, waiting for her eyes to adjust; even before then, it took her only a few wriggles to realize that she was in her own bed. She calmed immediately and stared at the ceiling.

For the first time that she could remember, the darkness was comforting. It was warm, soothing, and enveloped her grief in one tidy package.

Denny was dead. It was unfathomable…irreversible…devastating.

Denny, who she had agreed to marry, who made her heart go crazy with giddiness, and who made her feel like a real human being. Not beautiful, not gorgeous, not sexy…but pretty.

Her heart shattered into a million pieces again and somewhere, Izzie found the energy to chuckle in irony. It was so easy to use "heart" in a figurative and metaphorical sense – heartache, heartbreak, disheartening, heartfelt…

But they were all lies that led people to forget that the heart was first and foremost an organ that thrived on blood pumping through its tissue, signals from the brain to speed up or slow down, its own internal pacemaker that kept it beating, and the intricate wiring of blood vessels that made sure the rest of the body remained nourished. And when one infinitesimal part shut down…everything followed along with it.

She had no idea what she was going to do. Besides Denny's death, there was the rest of her career she had to think about. There was no chance she would be invited back to the intern program; had she not quit, the board would have certainly forced her to leave. Surgery was out of the question; Izzie knew, finally, that she was not cut out for it. It was too cruel, too emotionless, and too objective.

It wasn't a fair system.

She had worked her entire life, saving dollars here and there, selling out her body to pay for college and then medical school, to pursue her dream as a renowned surgeon. And she had blown it, completely and utterly, by falling for a patient and trying to save his life, no matter what the cost.

The irony was that she had helped Alex, who had failed his medical boards the first time around, to pass on the second try. For all the grief she had given him, it looked like Alex was going to be the one who made it.

Alex.

There was that name again, ringing in her ears.

She couldn't really remember what had happened in the hospital room, at least not before she had fallen apart while lying beside Denny on the narrow bed. She vaguely recalled someone picking her up off the bed, cradling her in strong arms, as she reached out for something – anything – to cling onto. And she had sobbed, so deep and so hard that physical pain and mental anguish surged through her body in powerful streaks.

Then she smelled a hint of cologne, a scent she had grown to know well, and realized who was holding her.

Alex. She had underestimated him.

It was slightly unnerving to be so close to him, but more comforting than anything else. Izzie hated to admit it, even to herself, but it felt _so good_ to have his arms around her again. She had hated seeing them around Olivia's body, and despised the idea that he would ever touch someone else.

So she clung a little harder and dissolved her mind of thoughts as they rocked gently back and forth.

Reality rushed back as Izzie discovered she was mostly naked, save for her strapless bra and underwear. She considered getting up to dress into something more appropriate, but felt disinclined to get out of bed. It was as if her bed had become her protective bubble, and anything beyond it would bring about death and pain and injustice.

Izzie suddenly felt very self-conscious and groped around her for an unfolded shirt when her fingers curled around the soft fabric of a t-shirt by her head. Unsnapping her strapless bra, Izzie did her best to wiggle into the t-shirt; feeling less exposed, she turned on the lamp beside her best.

The house was eerily silent, as if she was the only one remaining. Part of her wanted to remain in bed and force herself to fall back asleep. Still, another part of her longed to go downstairs, see what everyone else was doing, and try to urge her mind back into a sense of normalcy. With her mind made up, Izzie swung her legs over the side of the bed and plodded to her dresser, where she found a pair of sweatpants.

Upon opening her door, she could hear the faint sound of voices; Izzie was half-way down the stairs when she realized that it was the television. All the house lights had been turned off, so that the television images created an eerie glow. Turning into the living room, she stopped short when she found the room empty, save for Alex.

He was sitting at one end of the sofa, head dipped back onto the cushions and remote in one hand. It was as if he had been watching the television when he simply dozed off. Alex was still in his dress pants, though the starched white shirt was wrinkled and untucked; the sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows.

There appeared to be no one else in the house, though Izzie guessed that Meredith was probably in her room. George most likely left with Callie, and Cristina…well, Cristina would have managed to get back to the hospital to see Burke.

Which left Alex. He really was full of surprises, Izzie mused, relieved by the temporary distraction from thinking about Denny. Alex never ceased to amaze her, frustrate her, tease her, infuriate her, amuse her, and charm her…usually all in one moment. She wondered how long he had been there and how long he intended to stay.

Izzie made up her mind to turn off the television and walked quietly to the center of the room. She was just about to reach for the power button when the floor squeaked beneath her feet. Izzie cringed as Alex groaned sleepily and stretched.

She watched wakefulness hit as Alex realized she was standing only a few feet away. He jumped to his feet, nearly tripping over the coffee table in front of him, and ran a hand through his hair.

"I didn't hear you come down," he stammered.

"You fell asleep," Izzie reminded him gently.

"Yeah." Alex scratched his head, looking genuinely confused. "I don't remember ever sitting down."

She shrugged. "You were probably very tired."

Cautiously, almost in an embarrassed manner, Izzie walked over to the couch and sat down next to where Alex had been seated before. He lowered himself into his previous space, fingers fiddling with the remote buttons.

"I'm sorry," Alex murmured without preamble. "I'm am so sorry, Izzie."

"Did you want anything to eat?" Izzie asked, trying with all her might to change the subject. She knew she was failing miserably.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

It destroyed her to hear him say those words, especially because she had no idea what he had to be sorry about.

"Don't say that," Izzie ordered, looking away. "You have no reason to apologize to me."

Alex extended his arms, as if ready to touch her; but he faltered, unsure if he would be doing the right thing. "I'm sorry that I didn't get to know Denny better before he passed away. I'm sorry that I held a grudge against him, because it was obvious that you favored him over me. I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to tell him that if he ever made you cry, I would punch him. If he was able to capture your heart – your unselfish, compassionate heart – in so short a time, then he must have been an amazing guy."

The tears were returning, first as a gentle rainfall but threatening to turn into a torrent. Izzie drew in a shuddered breath. "I'm sorry too."

"He loved you," Alex said, very simply.

She nodded. "I couldn't save him."

His eyes became sharp. "Don't think that," Alex commanded. "Don't you dare think that."

Izzie drew her knees up her to chest again and wrapped her arms around her legs. "I couldn't save him," she whimpered. "He put his life into my hands and I failed him."

"You gave him another chance at life," Alex declared. "You gave him a new heart."

"It didn't make any difference," she snapped back in bitterness.

He seized her hands and squeezed them tightly enough to make Izzie meet his eyes in surprise. When Alex spoke again, his voice was hoarse and filled with emotion. "It gave Denny long enough to ask you to marry him."

Izzie froze; she couldn't think of that moment, not again. Not when she had been so ready to accept and had anticipated seeing his face again after hours upon hours of fixing her hair, doing her makeup, and picking the perfect dress. Why had she wasted so much time, when she could have been with Denny?

"What are we doing here?" She demanded, pounding her fists against his chest. "We tell ourselves we want to be doctors, but good are we if we can't even save the people we love?"

"Izzie, shut up. Are you listening to yourself?" Alex grabbed her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Yes, we did become doctors so that we could save people, but that wasn't the biggest reason. We became doctors to give people _hope_, to let patients believe that they did not come to the hospital to die but to get better."

"And if we fail?" She whispered.

"Then at least we'll know that we gave it a hell of a shot." Alex ran his thumbs across her cheekbones. "We can't make promises, Izzie, but we can let people think that we care."

Izzie stared at him, pupils swallowing her irises in a glossy abyss. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

He resisted the urge to smile wryly and in all seriousness, answered, "Because you deserve better than this. You deserve more than feeling alone in the world, than wondering if you are good enough, than needing someone else to make you feel beautiful, than thinking that you've lost love forever."

She shuddered, pulling Alex forward with her as she brought her hands to her mouth and sobbed into them.

Alex immediately shifted closer, wrapping her trembling body in his tight embrace. Her tears drenched his shirt as she clawed at his shoulders. He buried his face into her whisper-soft hair, inhaling her anger, her sorrow, her loss…as if he could draw it from her body and absorb it into his.

Alex hated himself for having ever hurt Izzie, and he knew that he had. He hated himself for not taking Izzie – all of her, body and soul – when he had he chance. He hated Denny for leaving Izzie like this, broken and lost. He hated Denny for loving Izzie, for gaining her love, for making Izzie doubt the person that he – Alex Kevar – was. Most of all, he hated Denny for earning the one thing that he doubted Izzie could – or would – ever give him: her trust.

He remembered why he had been in the living room, why he had chosen to stay while everyone else went their separate ways. He had wanted to be here, within arm's reach, if Izzie did fall apart again.

When her crying quieted, Alex turned off the television, drowning them in darkness. As they had done in the hospital room, the two of them rocked back and forth in a soothing lullaby. He prepared to pull away, to help her into bed again. To his amazement, Izzie reached for his hands with startling quickness.

"Don't go," she whispered into the blackness.

They had entered dangerous waters again, where the future crashed into the past.

Alex reached out to touch her hair, to let it curl between his fingers. "I won't. I'll be right here, if you need me."

He leaned back, sinking into the sofa, and stretching out his arms. To his surprise, Izzie did not make any movement to get up and return to her bedroom. Instead, she shifted so that her side was pressed against his, with her head settled perfectly into the crook of his shoulder. Izzie pressed her knees tighter against her chest and curled up her arms in the small space between; it was as if she had formed a cocoon around herself.

Alex reached down with his free arm to retrieve his tuxedo jacket and draped it around her body. She grabbed the lapel with her fingers and tucked it under her chin. She sighed deeply, her breath warm and steady against his chest. Then, because he could not control himself any longer, Alex leaned down to press the lightest of kisses on her forehead.

"I miss Denny," she murmured drowsily.

Alex's heart clenched at that, so he waited for the strain to subside before he spoke again. "I know, Izzie."

"I have to start looking for a job."

He squeezed her shoulder. "Don't worry about that now. Just try to get some sleep," he whispered, closing his eyes.

They fell into peaceful silence, and Alex had just teetered on the edge of unconsciousness when he heard, no louder than a sigh, a word. "Alex?"

"Yeah, Izzie?"

"Thank you."

_I'll be your crying shoulder  
I'll be love suicide  
I'll be better when I'm older  
I'll be the greatest fan of your life  
_Edwin McCain


End file.
